probably people in the bedrooms, random hookups happening behind closed doors. Brenden is sitting at the table nearby, locked in an intense conversation with Kayla, the bitch. She doesn’t look happy. Neither does he.
He should’ve already broken up with her.
Kayla suddenly leaps to her feet and storms off.
“Kayla!” Brenden calls as he stands, glancing over at me. I send him a look. One that says, don’t do it.
But the bastard doesn’t listen to me, or decipher my look, because he goes chasing after her, straight into the house.
Great. Those two will probably fight and eventually fuck in one of the bedrooms.
No one talks to me. We’re at my house and not one motherfucker is saying a word to me. How’s that for friends? How’s that for people trying to get to know me better? Granted, most of my friends here are currently talking to girls, so I suppose I can’t blame them. Even Cory is talking to some chick—wait a minute, is that Josie he’s with?
Yep. Now she’s gyrating and grinding on his junk. And the look on Cory’s face is one that should be documented. He appears stunned. And happier than a pig in shit.
I yank my phone out of my back pocket and open up Instagram, then unblock Ava so I can see her profile. I’m an idiot for overreacting like I did. I blocked her ass everywhere. I didn’t want her to have access to me. More like I didn’t want to see her. I click on her story to find an image of her posing with her friend, Ellie. She’s in a simple black dress that clings to her in all the right places, plus she’s wearing her homecoming royalty sash and the tiara. The caption below it says, “Homecoming dance!”
It’s freakin’ painful to witness her like that. Smiling and looking normal. Posing with her friend. Her life is just fine, when mine is falling apart. I zoom in on her face, and while she’s smiling, I can also see sadness in her green gaze.
That makes me feel a little more satisfied.
I start looking through other IG stories, oblivious to what’s going on around me. I follow a lot of people who go to Ava’s school, so I’m seeing a lot of footage from tonight’s dance preparations and arrivals. There’s even video of Ava and motherfuckin’ Wyatt dancing together. At least it’s not a slow dance. And the guy can’t dance for shit.
Seeing them together burns my gut. Burns my ass. Is that what Ava really wants? I doubt it. No one else can make her feel like I do. I remember what she looked like in my bed, her naked body flushed, her eyes sparkling when she curled her finger around my necklace and tugged me down for a kiss. I remember the way she tasted, the sounds she made when I made her feel good.
When I made her come.
Groaning, I slide out of IG and go into my text messages, not giving a damn. I’m weak. Weak like Brenden is with Kayla. He should break up with her, yet he’s probably boning her right now.
I should cut off all contact with Ava, but here I am, texting her.
Hope you have fun at your stupid dance with that asshole who probably wouldn’t know where your clit is, even if you drew him a map with a giant lit-up arrow pointing to it.
I send the text before I can overthink it. The moment I hear the swoosh noise indicating it’s gone, I have mad regret. I shouldn’t talk to her. I should leave her alone. She lied to me. She blabbed all my business to her asshole brother and then that asshole threw it in my face. Made me look and feel like a fool. In front of their parents, no less.
I hate him.
Ava doesn’t respond. I’m sure she’s too busy trying to help Wyatt find her love button.
Another groan leaves me. I can’t even believe I thought the words love button. I know my Ava. She’s not fucking around with that guy. Not when only last night she was ready to jump me in her hot tub. My girl doesn’t move that fast. Even though I blocked her on social media. Even though I told her we were through.
Even though I said all sorts of things I shouldn’t have…
I rise to my feet and make my way across the patio and into the house, passing by people who call my name, though I don’t stop